


Confused By the Birds and the Bees

by Alcoholic_Kangaroo



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Dom/sub, Duck Rape, M/M, Mating Season, Minor Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack, Minor Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera/Gyro Gearloose, Rape/Non-con Elements, Underage Sex, Weird Biology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28003578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alcoholic_Kangaroo/pseuds/Alcoholic_Kangaroo
Summary: It's Dewey's first mating season and Launchpad has decided to take him under his wing to teach him how duck mating season goes.
Relationships: Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera/Dewey Duck, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera/Launchpad McQuack
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10





	Confused By the Birds and the Bees

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably OOC af and there's a story behind why I wrote it but I don't feel like explaining myself so just read the damn thing

“Why me?” Fenton asks. He’s cowering against one of the clear glass windows on the far end of the lab, his arms splayed out, gripping the transparent walls on his sides. Behind him, a small school of silver minnows flit by, barely visible in the darkened waters of the late-afternoon light. Dewey’s eyes are drawn to them, easily distracted from the scene playing out in front of him. They flash orange with the glow of the setting sun above.

“Come on buddy,” Launchpad coaxes, stepping closer, palms outstretched as if he were approaching a newborn foal. The smaller duck attempts to slip away, sliding slowly along the length of the window, away from the other two. “Fenton, you don’t want the kid to get hurt his first time, do you?”

“You don’t need to do this-” Fenton begins, trying to reason with them. He’s turned on his super-serious scientist voice but it doesn’t matter because his words end abruptly.

Launchpad catches Fenton by the throat, squeezing his fingers so that the words stop suddenly in his throat. He lifts him a foot off the ground in this position, careful not to swing him in the air and hurt him. The smaller duck grabs at the hand with both of his smaller ones, small wheezing noises escaping his pinched air pipe. He could try to scratch at Launchpad’s arm or hit his fists against Launchpad’s fingers, but he doesn’t. He just squirms in the air, trying futilely to pry himself loose from his grasp.

“Don’t worry about them saying stuff like that,” Launchpad instructs his young protégé at his side. He pays little attention to Fenton’s attempts to dislodge him. Fenton’s feet kick in the air at nothing. Launchpad is holding him too far out for his feet to be able to reach him or Dewy. “They always try to get out of it but it’s part of the game. It’s good to establish dominance immediately so incapacitate them in a way that won’t leave lasting damage. Choking is usually a good call. Try not to strike them if you can help it. Obviously, don’t hold them off the ground like this if they’re heavier or have an exceptionally fragile throat.”

“But how do you know if they really mean it or not,” Dewey asks, frowning. He’s staring at Fenton and how his face is starting to darken. He stops resisting, his arms going limp at his side, his legs hanging beneath them. Launchpad releases the smaller duck, letting him drop back onto the floor. He stumbles and falls onto his hands and knees, coughing as he tries to catch his breath. “I know you said they all want it during mating season, but that doesn’t mean they’d want it from just anyone, does it?”

“Dewey,” Launchpad chuckles, reaching out to ruffle the feathers on top of his head affectionately. “It doesn’t matter if they want it or not. It’s their responsibility.”

“But,” Dewey protests, “Huey. He wouldn’t-”

“Huey has Boyd,” Launchpad reminds him, softening his voice because he does get it. The boy is trying to imagine his own family going through what they’re going to do to Fenton. Donald is a submissive, but he had deliberately kept them out to sea during mating season when they were younger. Now he’s with Daisy who is a strong dominant in her own right and therefore safe from other dominants. This is Huey’s first time being in season though and the three boys are all so close. “Don’t worry about your brother, he’s got a strong lover to claim him.”

“I, I have a lover too,” Fenton objects from his spot on the floor. His voice comes out hoarse, almost painful sounding. He’s not looking at them, his eyes are on the ground. “Gyro, he’s, he’s-”

“A scrawny chicken,” Launchpad says, rolling his eyes. He smiles at Dewey in a way that he recognizes is supposed to be a joke but Dewey isn’t quite experienced enough yet to get said joke. “And he’s not here right now.”

“What if he finds out?” Dewey asks, rubbing his hands nervously because he is afraid of Gyro’s wrath, even if Launchpad isn’t. The scientist may seem small compared to Launchpad, but he towers over Dewey and could probably choke him out as easily as Launchpad had been choking Fenton.

“Then he should thank us for taking care of his boyfriend for him,” Launchpad shrugs. Fenton, hoping they’re distracted by their conversation, is attempting to slowly crawl away on the floor. Launchpad bends down to pick him up with one arm around his waist, slinging him over his broad shoulder. He doesn’t even fight, just goes limp, accepting the treatment. Dewey hears him whining softly when Launchpad slaps him on the butt. “He can’t help Fenton through mating season, he’s not one of us. Don’t worry, buddy, we’re going to take care of you.”

They take Fenton into one of Uncle Scrooge’s boardrooms just in case Gyro returns to the lab. There is a large, oval, expensive-looking wooden table directly in the center of the room, and Launchpad deposits the smaller duck on top of it carelessly. He isn’t unnecessarily rough, but he isn’t gentle either and Fenton winces, mouthing out a quiet “ow” as his head smacks against the surface

“Okay, so the first thing you need to do is arouse them,” Launchpad says as he reaches between Fenton’s legs. He starts by petting his thighs, spreading them as he does so until they’re parted enough for Launchpad to stand between them. “It’s different depending on whether they’re male or female. Fenton, stop trying to close your legs. Your submissive doesn’t have to enjoy it but you do want to make them orgasm.”

Dewey nods, continuing to watch his best friend administer his coaxing touches. Launchpad isn’t a genius but he’s good with his hands. Fenton tries to sit up and the larger duck pushes him back down with his large palm. Fenton lies there on his back, legs spread, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes. He’s breathing hard and there are tears trailing down the side of his face, pooling onto the table’s surface.

“I picked Fenton because guys are easier,” Launchpad continues, his hand is loosely massaging the smaller duck’s penis. It’s mostly still soft but even before his eyes, Dewey can see it lengthening. Launchpad moves his hand to the side, loosely fisting the rubbery, half-hard cock. “Well, that, and Drake would kill me if we ended up planting eggs in a submissive.”

Drake Mallard. Launchpad’s boyfriend. Normally, Launchpad would already be driving to St. Canard to see him this late in the afternoon but two dominants, even two dominants that are normally madly in love with each other, don’t exactly get along during mating season. In a few more years, Dewey knows he’ll have to start avoiding Launchpad for these couple weeks as well. He’s still too small and young to be considered competition.

Fenton is writhing on the table now, his erection looking pathetically small in Launchpad’s meaty fist. His fingers scrabble at the glossy wood but there’s nothing for him to grab at. The sight of him squirming, as well as the desperate pleas for mercy escaping his throat, stirs something between Dewey’s own legs. He glances at Launchpad’s crotch as well and sees a similar reaction taking place. He’s so big. He must be as thick around as Dewey’s arm. Dewey squeezes his own legs shut, shyly, trying to hide his own tiny pubescent boner.

“Please, stop,” Fenton begs but it comes out as a breathy whisper, barely audible.

“Okay, you see he’s fully hard now. That’s how we want him to be. I don’t recommend breeding a woman until you’ve had experience with them outside of mating season. Now, he should start to soften inside and produce lubricant. Yup, here we go, have a look.”

Launchpad moves to the side so Dewey can stand between Fenton’s legs. His left hand is still slowly stroking Fenton’s hard-on but the right hand is cupping him from below, one finger slipped inside of Fenton’s twitching asshole. It moves effortlessly in and out, surprisingly easily considering the size of one of Launchpad’s digits, and when he pulls it out a clear liquid drips from his knuckle. Dewey sees more of the liquid oozing out of the opening.

“Go ahead, touch it,” Launchpad instructs. “You should know how it feels.”

Dewey should feel repulsed by the idea. Sex fluids, until very recently, have always been a disgusting prospect. Generally speaking, anything that comes out of the body is nauseating. But he’s feeling differently today. The sight of so much fluid makes Dewey’s dick throb where it is still clenched between his thighs. For some reason, he feels like leaning forward and _licking_ the secretions from Fenton’s soft brown tail feathers.

He makes do with just running his fingers through them, collecting some of the juices on his index finger. When he rubs his thumb across the top of it, he’s surprised how easily it glides. He was expecting the texture to be like fresh glue but it’s almost more like baby oil. He brings his finger to his mouth to taste it. A shiver runs down his spine.

“Tastes good, doesn’t it?” Launchpad asks. Fenton tries to sit up again but is pushed back down with the same hand that Launchpad had been jerking him off with. He keeps it there, as heavy as a concrete brick on his chest. Two fingers of his right hand are now inside of his hole, obscene squelching noises as he fucks Fenton with those giant fingers. “Be good. I’m trying to teach Dewey all this. Think of it like when you were interning under your boyfriend.”

“He keeps trying to get away,” Dewey points out, the end of his index finger still in his mouth.

“He does,” Launchpad hums with agreement. “It usually doesn’t take this long. I’m sure he’s getting impatient. Okay Fenton, let’s get on with it.”

Launchpad wraps his hands around Fenton’s waist. He’s so big and Fenton is so tiny that his thumbs overlap in the middle. Fenton scratches at the surface of the table once more, muttering quietly in a thick, wet voice, “no, no, no, no,” when Launchpad pulls him to the edge of the table. He’s kicking, or his legs are flailing, anyway, as he tries to dig his heels into the wood and push back, away from the edge, but he’s unable to gather any traction. Launchpad grabs one of his legs by the upper thigh and lifts him, opening him up so he can guide himself inside with his other hand.

Fenton’s entire body goes stiff, a series of small grunts escaping from him as Launchpad pushes inside. Dewey knows he should be concentrating on Launchpad’s dick, on his technique; he can’t help but watch Fenton’s face instead. His eyes are clenched shut, a bead of sweat running down his forehead. His teeth are gritted, the tips of his fingers are still pressed flat against the table, gripping at nothing.

The larger duck pulls him closer until his hips are hanging off the table. He literally drags Fenton’s body onto his cock until his pelvis is flush with Fenton’s behind. White feathers against brown. When Dewey finally thinks to look at Launchpad’s face, he finds that Launchpad also has his eyes closed. Is this something both participants are supposed to be blind for? Except Launchpad’s mouth is slightly open, and he’s breathing deeply and slowly as if he were in the middle of a Yoga class. He stands like that a long minute as Dewey waits, growing anxious for something to happen.

“Forgot how tight submissives are,” he admits when he finally he opens his eyes. “Almost hurts.”

Something about those words affects Dewey on a way he wouldn’t have predicted. His legs feel weak beneath him. There’s a chair on wheels nearby, so he grabs it, not taking his eyes off his mentor and the small scientist. He turns the chair around so he can fold his arms across the top and press his uncomfortable hard erection into the back of it.

Launchpad’s hands hold onto Fenton’s hips as he fucks into him. Fenton is a small duck but he’s not scrawny. He’s soft and Launchpad’s fingers disappear into the meat and feathers of him. Small, pained noises escape every time that Launchpad thrusts in. Dewey licks his lips, his hand slipping down to lightly squeeze at his own throbbing hard-on. He doesn’t even know where to look. At the submissive’s scrunched up face wet with tears, at Launchpad’s hands holding him forcefully in place, or at the way his stretched out asshole appears to be pulling Launchpad deeper inside of him. Fenton’s dick, larger than Dewey’s but nowhere near Launchpad in size, bobs rock-hard between them.

“Come on, Fenton,” Launchpad commands through heavy breaths, looking down at the smaller duck. “Open your eyes, look at me. I don’t want you thinking about Gyro when I’m mating you.”

Miraculously, Fenton does. He opens his red-rimmed eyes and looks up at Launchpad and a shaky sob escapes his throat. Launchpad leans down to kiss him, swallowing the wretched sound. He releases the hold on his hips and grabs at his face, holding him close as he drives even deeper into him. Launchpad is literally holding his jaw agape so that he can ravage Fenton’s mouth with his tongue. Dewey concentrates on the sight of the two of them, wondering what Fenton must taste like. Could it be as good as the taste of his wetness? Fenton’s own mouth is slack, not returning the effort in the slightest.

He’s still thrusting up into him, still pulling out little whimpers from Fenton’s throat. Except the movement is different now, less jerky thrusts and more grinding. Fenton slides up against the slippery wood without Launchpad’s hands around his waist to keep him in place. Dewey can hear him still crying into the kiss. It sounds wet as the sound of Launchpad’s dick dragging inside him sounds wet. Despite the tears, Fenton must be enjoying this because his fluids are soaking the table beneath him now. Every time Launchpad pulls out the wetness drips onto the table; every time he pushes back in there’s a little muffled cry.

When he pulls back from the kiss, Launchpad doesn’t grab onto his waist once more. Instead, he plants his hands on the table directly above Fenton’s shoulders and continues to fuck into him, holding him in place with just his bodyweight and the force of his thrusts. He’s just so damn big that Dewey can’t help but be jealous. He’s splitting the smaller duck clean open beneath him, making him whine and cry and spit out bitter words. He gives up on trying to grip the table and finally grabs at Launchpad’s shoulders, digging his fingers into them, cursing at him all the while, and Launchpad chuckles at the motion as if he were a small butterfly that had just landed on him and not a duck trying to lash out against his abuser. He fucks him harder instead, forcefully enough that the table creaks beneath them. Dewey fears for a moment that they may break it. Or that Launchpad will break Fenton instead.

Launchpad doesn’t let Fenton cum. When he senses he is close, he reaches down and wraps his hand around Fenton’s leaking erection and squeezes him so hard he yelps at the pain of it. He cums instead, thrusting as deep as he possibly can inside him, nearly crushing him with his body weight as he finishes. The heavy table pushes forward about an inch. It must hurt to have him so deep because Fenton’s legs tremble around Launchpad’s waist and he goes stiff again until Launchpad sighs and pull out. His cock is slick with translucent wetness which he doesn’t even try to wipe off when he tucks himself back into his pants. Fenton is still hard, but he sits up, thinking it is finally over. Launchpad doesn’t push him down this time, but he does block him from getting up.

“It’s Dewey’s turn,” he says to the exhausted submissive. “You ready, bud?”

“Uh, I think so,” Dewey responds, which is partially a lie because he knows so. His own dick is so hard it’s painful and he knows that he just really, really wants to stick it in a hole right now. And Fenton’s hole seems like a good one to do so. He slips out of the chair and walks over to where Fenton is sitting on the table edge. He’s still hard but he’s half hiding the erection with a hand draped over his lap.

“Have at it,” Launchpad says with a nod towards Fenton. “He’s ready to go, no prep work required.”

“Uh, yeah,” Dewey agrees, but he’s looking at Fenton sitting up there on the slick wooden surface and wondering how he can even reach him from here. Launchpad waits for him to do something but after a minute finally catches onto the issue because he hits himself on the forehead with a thunk.

“Duh! Sorry, Dewey. Let me fix this for you.”

Fenton puts out his arms to push Launchpad away but, of course, it’s useless. Launchpad picks him up easily around the waist, turning him around, and sets him on the floor, facing the ground.

“On your hands and knees, Fenton,” Launchpad scolds when he tries to climb back up onto his feet. He picks him up again and lays him down again. “Dewey can’t reach if you’re standing up.”

This time, Launchpad keeps a hand wrapped around the back of Fenton’s neck, keeping him down and in place. Fenton struggles against him for a few seconds, and then lets him head drop, hanging between his shoulder. Launchpad loosens the grip and but leaves his hand lightly cupping the back of his head, presenting Dewey with the sight of Fenton’s exposed backside and still erect cock.

Dewey can just reach him standing up. He goes for it immediately, blinding poking with his dick, but he misses entirely, not having any idea where he’s even sticking it. Curiously, he reaches down with his hand to feel between Fenton’s asscheeks, finding the hole waiting for him, slippery with not just his own juices but now Launchpad’s semen as well. He’s surprised by how tight he still feels when he slips a finger inside him. How does an asshole take a cock as big as Launchpad’s then just close up again like that?

He doesn’t expect Fenton to even react when he sinks his own dick inside him, it’s so small compared to Launchpad’s, but he’s pleasantly surprised when Fenton lets out a little whimper. Dewey grins, despite himself.

“Cool,” he whispers. When he pushes in and then pulls slowly back and then forcefully pushes back in, Fenton makes noises. Nice noises. Encouraging noises, though Fenton does not mean them to be.

He doesn’t expect to last long and he doesn’t. But he enjoys it while it lasts. He stands up straight at first, but he’s so small he keeps slipping out of the hole, so Launchpad suggests he lean against Fenton’s back and just hump into him instead. He tries it, his arms wrapping around Fenton’s torso, and it works much better. He’s soft yet solid like a good pillow and he’s warm on the outside and hot in the inside. Dewey has experience with humping his pillow so it’s not too different from that. Except Dewey can feel the older duck’s body shaking as he quietly weeps throughout the experience. Every so often he lets out a louder cry and his asshole flutters around Dewey’s cock, squeezing him so that he almost cums several times.

It ends too quickly. He tightens his grip around Fenton’s waist to make sure he receives all of his ejaculate because he doesn’t have much to begin with. Instinctually, he keeps his grip on the other duck, staying buried inside him as Launchpad instructs him on how to finish Fenton off. He’s so hard and his erection is so painful it doesn’t take too long. Just a dozen or so pumps with his fist and Fenton is sobbing with relief as he cums all over Dewey’s hand and the floor beneath then.

Dewey has started to soften, so when Launchpad touches him on the shoulder and tells him he can pull out now he is hesitant to do so. He asks if Launchpad can turn around for a second because he doesn’t want his best friend to see how small he is, especially when it’s soft. He doesn’t so much as pull out as just fall out when he pulls back just the slightest. The front of his crotch, including all the feathers in that area, are sopping with fluids. But Fenton is even worse.

Cautiously, Fenton turns over and sits down, crossing his legs beneath him. He wipes at his face, sniffling. His feathers are ruffled, and a wet spot is already forming beneath him on the boardroom’s hardwood floors. He keeps wiping at his face, then his beak, then his face again. Dewey looks towards Launchpad, wondering if there is something they’re supposed to do now.

“Can I go now?” Fenton finally gets up the nerve to ask.

“Well, if you want,” Launchpad replies with a shrug. “We were going to order a pizza; do you want to stay for some free food?”

Fenton just shakes his head. He climbs to his feet, shaking. Semen glistens on the inside of his thighs and on the feathers of his rear end. Some of them are more white than brown as the semen has already started to dry and crust over them like saltwater on kelp.

“I just want to go home,” he warbles.

“Sure, go ahead and get some rest,” Launchpad dismisses with a careless wave of his hand. “Just make sure to meet us here tomorrow, same time.”

“Tomorrow?” Dewey asks, cocking his head at Launchpad.

“Well, yeah,” Launchpad shrugs. “We’ve claimed him for the season and there’s still nearly two weeks until it’s over. You need to learn to last more than two minutes, kiddo.”

**Author's Note:**

> I imagined Dewey being about 12 here but feel free to headcanon him whatever age you want


End file.
